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The Four Sons of “Never Again”

By Asher Neuman

Posted on 04/14/22

Parshas HaShavua Divrei Torah sponsored by
Dr. Shapsy Tajerstein, DPM - Podiatry Care.
(410) 788-6633


The dividing Jewish generation still has something in common



A Pain Recalled


While it may seem like the middle of the year for the Northern Hemisphere, Nisan brings a newness akin to Spring. The Torah declares this month as the first of the year, a passage into the unknown, with winter hopefully distancing itself from us. It’s also a time of reflection on what it feels like to be free but still responsible to remember that pain of servitude. A few times a year, we metaphorically press a shoe to our face to remember how it felt to be under it, only to remove it while uttering a single refrain- “Never Again.”


We leave Egypt, Pogroms, and Concentration Camps in a single night, all with the promise that we’ll be saved again. But for those in the new generations, this prayer isn’t enough. We make it known in the name of those who didn’t try to fight back against modern, artificial horrors.


These Jews heard the cries of their parents and turned those groans into commands for their children to keep those emotions fresh and clear in their minds. Now, those parents are watching their grandchildren grow up in a different world.


Therein lies a truth, as new and young as the generation that sprouted from the Jewish tree, half-scorched and still nursing hacked branches.


There is now a new generation of Jews, children of “Never Again,” echoes of the phrase that have become rallying cries for young men and women across North America and beyond.


Four new sons have engrained these words into various definitions, and we must analyze each of them to keep us all together.


The Four Sons


Never Again will we connect with the outside world


He is a son of isolationism, burned by the non-Jews who laughed and killed his ancestors with glee as they tried to join the outside, more modern world. After all, a Jew is eternally different, destined to wander the Earth with a mark on his head akin to Cain. Forever must he stay alone from joining the rest of the world, for he will be content in his self-made shtetl covered in familiar language and speech. He must be left to himself, lest he and his family be sucked in and destroyed by the black hole of assimilation.


Never Again will Jewish blood become cheap


The cries of helplessness for being pushed around by bullies will not sound from the children of this Jewish son. He stands his ground, teeth bared and eyes glowing red, ready to fight the nightmares that plagued Jewish homes for centuries. He firmly believes that Jewish blood will never be spilled so carelessly that anyone who dares to strike a Jew will face his wrath. A child of bold nationalism, he will look upon those who wish to harm a Jew and swiftly make them regret it, sometimes more harshly than necessary.


Never Again will tragedy and suffering befall anyone else


The tears he shed in Holocaust memorial services soaked into his heart, with a promise etched in his mind that no one else shall suffer like him. He connects with his traumas and turns his work outward to those who cannot fight for themselves. This Jew reaches out to grab anyone’s hand and help them as others did for his ancestors. The world isn’t just until all injustices are removed, no matter where they’re located. To him, mercy belongs to all, especially those who cannot call out for it. He leads charges for social justice, eager and passionate to stop evil from stepping into his world.


Never Again will we follow these archaic laws


This son has had enough. Whenever he hears about suffering and destruction, he connects it to the ceremonies and services he doesn’t understand. What are these laws and rules to you? he asks. Why keep them if it only means more sorrows and painful memories? He wonders how long this religion can keep it up before the laws suffocate them as the world updates beyond their jurisdiction. What if the world becomes more tolerant and digital, constantly removing taboos and intolerances? How will such an ancient list of rules withstand the test of time? He believes that Judaism had a good run as a culture and religion, but he won’t sit shiva for it. He only watches from afar while holding onto his menorah and matza-style crackers.


How do we reconcile them?


Well, as a start, we should turn to the Seder night.


Every year, at the same part of the Haggadah, all of the children at the table ask who is the wise one, the bad one, or the simple one. Ironically, no one asks if they don’t know how to ask. Then the head of the seder scans the table for a means to change the conversation. But therein lies a solution. We all wonder which one we might be, but we forget that we all show up to the Seder night in the first place


Being the youngest child among much older brothers, I always wondered what it must be like to live in the house of the classic four sons. I imagined the family as a chaotic mess, with the parents exhausted from dealing with those poor, one-dimensional children.


As I grew up, I realized that the children in the Haggadah were more than just clear-cut character traits. I understood a couple of things about them; they all believed in their way of life and that they keep returning, in the same way, every year. We keep inviting them back. The table is still set just as beautifully, and we still tell our universal story of redemption and finding purpose.


So, what do we tell these four sons as they sit at the table, each set in their ways and quietly judging each other?


We tell them a story. One that brings them all together.


In the span of a night, we weave a tale about how G-d saved us, a people separated from the others and bereft of hope, without using an intermediary, while inflicting vengeance upon our tormentors and giving us timeless laws.


We say to each of them that we came from one point and that we never again forget that:


It’s easy to consider yourself the wise one, but doesn’t it say that “he who is wise learns from everyone (Pirkei Avot 4:1)?”


Finding ourselves can bring back the unity we so desperately need.


After all, Pesach is called the Holiday of Spring. Maybe this could also mean a renewal of bonds between brothers.


Forty-nine days after G-d freed them, all Hebrews stood together like one person (as Rashi says) at Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah. We may not make that deadline, but joining together, however distant we might be, for a Seder (or two) can bring us together by telling a story they can appreciate and live through every year. We start in sadness but end in hope, just like we should live.


May we never again feel the anguish of separation this year, replaced by open tables and ideas that bring us together more than ever. Even if they make us grind our teeth, we must still keep a seat open for the other sons and be like the parents of the Four Sons.


Asher Neuman is a freelance content writer based in Jerusalem. He's been featured in Times of Israel. This is first article in Baltimore Jewish Life.